


talk with your fingertips

by citadelofswords



Category: EOS 10 (Podcast)
Genre: Love Confessions, M/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Touch-Starved, akmazian is like a big cuddly teddy bear in a stupid cloak
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-01
Updated: 2016-10-01
Packaged: 2018-08-18 23:39:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8180110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/citadelofswords/pseuds/citadelofswords
Summary: The thing is, when you’re an interplanetary terrorist on the run from most of the Alliance, people tend to not want to do more than grab a drink with you. It sucks, not being hugged in over ten years, but Akmazian deals with it.





	

**Author's Note:**

> OKAY. OKAY. Harper posted a [summary of a fic she wouldn't write](http://harpers-mirror.tumblr.com/post/151174422011/for-the-fic-i-wont-write-game-ryanmazian-and). I lost my shit. She gave me permission to write it. I swear I was going to wait and hold onto it for a day when the bug was too strong but I saw these people in town today with FREE HUGS signs and I thought, "Fuck, Akmazian sits in that cargo bay all by himself. I bet it's been ages since anyone hugged him." And then this happened.
> 
> It may have run away from the original summary a little bit, which is why I didn't just use it as the fic summary. But the idea is there.
> 
> Also, shocker, the title isn't a song lyric. What the fuck @ me. The title that was prompted was just too damn good. I couldn't resist.

Akmazian spends most of his time on a spaceship, a little bit of time on jobs collecting information, and whatever time has left over in the cargo bay of EOS 10. It’s cold and lonely in there, he wasn’t lying when he told Ryan that, but these days everywhere is cold and lonely.

The thing is, when you’re an interplanetary terrorist on the run from most of the Alliance, people tend to not want to do more than grab a drink with you. It sucks, not being hugged in over ten years, but Akmazian deals with it.

Until Ryan (and his stupid cheekbones and his _stupid hair_ ) comes into his life, and then Akmazian feels like he’d give anything for a damn _handshake_ , but Ryan spends most of the first few months of their acquaintance believing he’s a terrorist and then another few months grieving, so Akmazian gives him his space.

Things… snowball a little the day after a botched job comes back to bite him in the ass, and Akmazian stumbles out of the Silent Storm just wanting to sleep and finds himself face to face with Ryan Dalias himself, wild-eyed and wild-haired.

“Oh,” he says, and clears his throat, and Ryan throws himself forwards.

It’s his first hug in ten years, and unfortunately he’s hit with an overwhelming agony in his midsection and it ends all too soon, since Ryan pulls away, talking miles a minute and ghosting his fingers up Akmazian’s chest, trying to find the source of the pain, and then his hands are gripping Akmazian’s tightly and leading him to lie down so he can have a better look, and Akmazian’s nerves are on fire.

Ryan doesn’t touch him very much, but when he does there is intent and emotion and meaning in every press of his fingertips. Akmazian starts craving it, yearning for it when he’s out in the inky black surrounded by nothing but distance. When he returns, and Ryan squeezes his hand or claps him on the shoulder, his entire body glows with warmth and, once, actually literally glows from the contact (though that might be due to an accident with a bioluminescent substance, he’s not really sure). The points where they make contact feel like they’re on fire even through three layers of fabric; when it finally fades Akmazian turns to alcohol as a poor substitute.

Things snowball again the second time Akmazian stumbles off the Silent Storm after a botched job and finds himself face to face with Ryan again. This Ryan, however, is far from the Ryan that first hugged him all those months ago— for one thing, his hair is well-kept, and for another, he’s shaking like a leaf.

“I thought…” Ryan says, and his voice quivers, and Akmazian stumbles forwards and encloses Ryan in his arms, because if there’s one thing he understands it’s when physical contact is needed. Ryan grabs onto his cape and holds on tight, and Akmazian only stops apologizing when Ryan pulls away and murmurs a soft “Thanks, I needed that,” and that’s that. It takes another twenty minutes for Ryan to stop shaking and Akmazian feels more helpless than he has in years.

Ryan still doesn’t touch him very much, but when he does it’s uncertain, like he expects Akmazian to run away from him, to sprout wings and fly away first chance he gets. Akmazian doesn’t know how to tell him that he would cut off those wings if Ryan asked him not to leave; Ryan never says anything but Akmazian keeps coming back to him all the same.

There’s a three week period where part of EOS 10 is bombed (completely, 100 percent unrelated to Akmazian for once) and they evacuate the whole station, and Akmazian flees the system as fast as he can before the Alliance sensors detect him. In the chaos he never gets to see Ryan, doesn’t know where he was when the bombs went off, and spends three weeks biting his nails and praying to whatever gods might exist that Ryan will be waiting for him when he stumbles off his ship, that he’ll be able to get another hug when he returns to EOS 10.

He gets one better. He gets Ryan, shaking, hair wild, eyes sunken, but grinning widely, in the doorway of the motel room he rents out in the Aerien sector, and the first thing this Ryan does is step inside, kick the door shut, and yank Akmazian against him for a kiss. Akmazian’s entire brain shorts out and his senses go into overdrive. He can’t get enough of this, of Ryan’s lips pressed against his, Ryan’s fingers on his face and then tangled in his hair, Ryan’s body caged against the door when Akmazian presses closer to erase the last bit of distance between them, Ryan, Ryan, _Ryan_.

Akmazian has always thought sex was fine, but it’s what comes after sex that matters most to him, and Ryan curls around him like he was made to fit there. The fire in Akmazian’s veins that comes from feeling Ryan’s touch cools until he just feels warm. Ryan traces absent patterns on Akmazian’s bare chest, then letters, spelling nonsensical words in English and French and languages Akmazian has always wanted to know how to speak but never learned.

Ryan touches him a lot after that, and Akmazian’s craving fades because he’s no longer a man starving for the attention. He still spends time in the cargo bay, and it’s still just as cold and lonely as it ever was, but just as often he spends time in Ryan’s quarters. They curl together on his bed and talk about absolutely everything and absolutely nothing all at once, and sometimes they have sex, but most often they sleep and talk, and Akmazian wakes up in the mornings with a faceful of cat and an armful of Ryan.

Except for the day when he wakes up to a phantom touch on his back, scarred from so many jobs gone wrong, and Ryan’s nose pressed into the back of his neck.

Ryan traces constellations between Akmazian’s freckles, and sweeps fingers down the lines of his scars, and he draws stars in the spaces between. He writes the letters L O V E in the space between Akmazian’s shoulder blades, and then kisses that spot, and it takes everything in Akmazian to remember to breathe and feign sleep at the same time.

Ryan writes an I and a LOVE and a YOU and then he murmurs, “I know you’re awake, asshole,” and Akmazian turns in his arms to kiss him because what else can he do?

Against the skin of Ryan’s chest Akmazian writes WHY? in a looping cursive he’s almost forgotten how to use, and Ryan writes BECAUSE OF THIS along Akmazian’s collarbones, circles the spot where Akmazian’s heart is with the tip of his finger, and then kisses the very center. Akmazian hasn’t felt Ryan’s touch burn in a long time, but it’s as though the amount of love Ryan holds for him ignites his very core. Ryan sits up a little bit so he can reach for Akmazian’s head and writes AND THIS, circling Akmazian’s head and pressing a kiss to his forehead. He circles Akmazian’s eyes, traces his jawline, runs his fingers down Akmazian’s neck, presses a palm over his heart, fits his hands into the divots of Akmazian’s hips, and everywhere his fingers touch he kisses afterwards, leaving a trail of fire that renders Akmazian breathless.

“Do you believe me?” Ryan asks.

“Of course,” Akmazian replies. “Always.”

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr has a meme where you send fic writers titles and pairings and they provide a summary for the fic they won't write. I like that game-- it's like writing fic without the commitment. You should send me some. You can also just talk to me, I like when people talk to me. [In case you didn't know, this is my tumblr where you can send those kinds of cool things.](http://citadelofswords.tumblr.com)


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